A lonely night
by classicalwolf
Summary: The story of the events that unfold when Mark and Roger have their first night alone from one another.
1. Chapter 1

Roger had told Mark that his band would be doing an overnight gig in New Jersey, and while the idea of Roger staying overnight hadn't bothered him before, now that they had solidified their relationship together, Mark couldn't bear to be apart from Roger. He'd just gotten back from hanging out and having Chinese with Maureen and Joanne, spending as much time with two of his closest friends as possible, so he would only have to be in the apartment alone, for as long as absolutely necessary. Climbing the steps to the loft, Mark shivered, feeling the expected unreliability of the heat, and also with the knowledge that Roger wouldn't be there waiting for him.

"Though if Roger would have been waiting for me at the apartment, he would have joined me for Chinese with Maureen and Joanne, and I wouldn't have to be alone tonight…" Mark thought sheepishly to himself as he fumbled with the key, attempting to control the shaking of his hands, due to the cold, just long enough to lock the door.

Finally entering the apartment, Mark shrugged off his coat and kicked off his boots, still keeping the scarf securely wrapped around his neck. Roger had often teased him about wearing the scarf, but the scarf had become a part of him, just as Roger had – a part of him that he could never let go of. Walking past the card table and chairs, Mark spotted a message written in the frost and ice of one of the windowpanes.

"I love you baby….Roger". Reading those words left Mark's eyes downcast, the desire to trace those words with his fingertips, so strong, if it weren't for the cold that had already found his hands, and the sad realization that it wouldn't make Roger come home any sooner.

Sighing, Mark entered the bedroom and quickly changed into his flannel pajamas, and slipping quickly between the sheets, snuggling in for warmth. Not being able to seek the comfort of the guitarist beside him, Mark swung his legs over the bed and threw on one of Roger's sweatshirts lying on the floor.

"If Roger can't be with me tonight, this will have to do", he thought glumly to himself. Getting back into bed, Mark lay on his side for what seemed like an eternity, with visions of the guitarist's arms wrapped around his waist, and his neck nuzzling into Mark's, feeling the warm breath against his own.

"I love you…", Mark whispered into the empty room, yearning for Roger more than ever, before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The gig had ended and Roger and his band mates had gone back to the motel to relax, before going to sleep themselves, since they were getting up early the next morning to return to the city. The band mates were all talking with each other, the TV on low, and Roger sat in a corner chair staring out the window, at the busy streets, and night scene, missing Mark. Mark had offered Roger a shirt of his or something to take with him, but Roger didn't want to seem childish, and he hadn't yet come out to his band mates. He needed something to calm him down, to forget the numbness he felt as he missed mark. He reached into his suitcase and grabbed a needle, filled with the all too familiar substance. Quickly without a second thought, he injected the heroin into his veins, waiting to feel the after effects. His other band mates were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice what he'd done, though Roger secretly stashed the needle and supplies back into his suitcase, gingerly holding his arm, his thoughts now centered around regret. With the feeling of regret overpowering the desire for the effect, Roger silently climbed into bed, yanking the covers over his head, wanting the last few moments to just disappear.

Arriving back at the loft, Roger silently crept into the living room, hanging up his coat and tugging on an oversized sweatshirt he'd slung over a chair before he left the previous evening. He walked into the bedroom and smiled at the sight of Mark still in a slumber, wrapped up in the sheets, a faint smile and blush on his cheeks and lips, obviously dreaming of Roger. Sighing, Roger slumped into a chair, watching the filmmaker sleep, a grin on his face, and his eyes sparkling under his tussled hair. The filmmaker rolled over and opened his eyes slowly, surprised to see the guitarist sitting there smiling at him.

"I thought you weren't coming back till later", Mark wondered groggily.

"I wanted to come back sooner", Roger answered, smiling.

"Mmmm….", Mark nodded in agreement. "Come join me?"

Roger rose from his chair and climbed into the king size bed beside Mark, holding the filmmaker close to him, nuzzling his hair into Mark's neck.

"…Missed you", Roger murmured, happy to be with Mark again, instead of with his band mates, who didn't seem to understand him.

"Missed you too, Rog…", Mark responded, moving closer to Roger.

In reaching to hold Roger closer, Mark realized that Roger was wearing a heavy sweatshirt, and he couldn't fathom why, considering the heat in the loft was working, and there was no need for extra layers.

"Rog…your sweatshirt….", Mark commented, as he turned to face Roger, so he could see his face, and to just feel closer to him.

"Oh…..yeah…..", Roger sighed, with furrowed brow, his hopes dashed of Mark not noticing his extra layers. Reluctantly, Roger took off his sweatshirt and threw it on the floor, then turning back to hold one of Mark's hands in his, using the other hand to stroke the side of the filmmaker's face. Roger leaned in closer to Mark and pressed his lips to Mark's in a light kiss, desire suddenly flowing through him. The filmmaker kissed the guitarist back, harder, and began exploring his face and upper body with his fingertips.

Grinning, the filmmaker left a light trail of strokes and kisses down the guitarist's collarbone, as the guitarist threw his head back, fixating on the exquisite sensations. Given Roger's reaction, Mark knew the perfect place to stroke, the inside of Roger's forearms and triceps. Obtaining the reeling reaction desired, from the left arm, Mark moved to Roger's right arm, trailing up and down his forearms, and triceps, when he saw the dot.

"Rog…..what's this?", Mark asked Roger quizzically, his face full of concern.

"Huh?", Roger snapped his eyes open and back to reality in an instant.

"This dot on your arm….what the….?", Mark continued, worried.

"I……I….", Roger started to explain.

"You….?…", Mark encouraged him to continue his statement.

"……You didn't!", Mark realized – shocked and angry.

"I was weak!", Roger cried, crushed with the realization of the defeat of his actions.

"I thought you were stronger than that….I thought we were stronger than that", Mark replied, eyes downcast, unable to look up at Roger.

"….I just needed….to escape for a while….to get away…..the group doesn't understand…and I can't tell them right now….they all want me to go after the fangirls….but really I want you….my fanboi….but they just wouldn't…..wouldn't get it….", Roger stammered, his voice trailing off….and the tears starting to come forth.

"Rog….you've been clean for almost 3 months….why would you….?", Mark asked, hoping to get some answers.

"I wanted the after effects…at first…..but I really wanted you….you're my antidrug….but you weren't there…you couldn't be…the guys….they wouldn't….", Roger cried, his head in his hands.

Mark slowly put his arm around Roger, pulling the sobbing guitarist towards him, attempting to brush some of the fallen bangs from his face.

"I…..need help….I need…..need you to help me…..I can't collapse like this again…..", Roger continued, sobbing even harder.

Mark wasn't sure what was harder for Roger, admitting he needed help, or asking for it. Mark montioned towards the cordless phone on the night table, and Roger nodded.

"I'll call….I hate the fall….I'm just a model prisoner….to the drug….it caught me again…because I let it….stupid….so stupid….", Roger spoke, the tears momentarily stopping, as if almost in a trance, while attempting to dial the number for the local rehab facility. His hands and voice were shaking so much that the phone fell from his hands with a soft clunk on the mattress. Even the inability to keep himself steady for a phone call, made Roger begin to cry again, harder, falling into Mark, bringing the filmmaker to the mattress in defeat. Mark silently placed the phone on the cradle and moved to wrap his arms around Roger, soothing him softly, arms stroking everywhere, soothing, kissing, nurturing, except the one spot on his right arm. Mark couldn't touch there; he couldn't even look at it. He would always be there for Roger, he loved him, but some things were harder to bear than others.

"You'll call when you're ready…", Mark soothed, stroking Roger's face.

"….But Collins….", Roger's voice trailed off, running out of energy to continue – even speaking.

"Collins doesn't have to know…but he does care about you, even if he can be an ass sometimes….", Mark responded.

Roger laughed softly. will be Collins….".

"We're all here to help you…and I'm not leaving you…no matter how hard you push me away….even when you experience withdrawal. Remember the first few days, the last time?", Mark asked Roger, turning to face him, looking deep into the guitarist's now cloudy eyes.

Roger shuddered and winced, the realization of what he'd done, and the effects it had on Mark, and the effects of withdrawal soon to come to his body. "Unfortunately…", his voice trailing off once again.

Though the clock flashed noon, Mark looked over at Roger and saw how drained he was, how the event of last night had taken such a toll on him.

"Let's get some sleep…", Mark suggested, knowing Roger wouldn't protest.

"…Ok….", Roger answered weakly, leaning into the filmmaker, and looking to Mark for support, with everything he had. There was no way he could go through this alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, both Mark and Roger found themselves exhausted from the events of yesterday morning and were startled by the piercing ring of the telephone. Mark blindly reached over Roger and yanked the phone from its cradle, mumbling groggily into the receiver.

"….Hello?", Mark answered, unsure of what time it was, although he really didn't care, since he felt like he'd only slept a matter of minutes, instead of multiple hours.

"Hey…it's Collin's….I'm at the door!", Collins responded, rather cheerfully, not taking notice to Mark's exhausted tone.

"Mm….give me a minute", Mark grumbled, gently shaking Roger awake, and trying to locate a pair of pants at the time, before returning the phone to it's cradle.

Mark stumbled out of bed, and located a pair of khaki colored jeans lying at the top of a heap of random laundry, pulling them on, as he scanned the room for a suitable top. Collins would have expected Mark and Roger to come to the door topless, with ragged pants on, inferring that they'd made use of their dirty thoughts while they were apart from each other, during Roger's overnight gig, but Mark didn't want to give Collins any reason to rag on them, not today, not now. Spotting a sweatshirt nestled in another pile of laundry, Mark pulled it on, smiling softly to himself with the realization that it was another sweatshirt of Roger's. Now appearing decently clothed, Mark returned to the bed for a minute, to see if the rousing of the guitarist had worked. Surprised, the filmmaker looked at a smiling guitarist, lying on his side, facing him, with a slight grin on his face.

"You're dressed", Roger observed.

"That was Collins", Mark answered, nodding at his clothed appearance.

"He's here?", Roger asked, pouting, hoping that Mark's getting dressed, was just a matter of instinct, and that there was no one at the door to be let in, and that Mark could come back to bed, and they could act on the dirty thoughts they'd both had while apart.

"Yeah….but he doesn't have to know….not now….", the filmmaker answered the guitarist reassuringly.

Roger nodded, and grabbed the same t-shirt he'd flung off due to the spike in heat of the loft in the middle of the night, tugging it on again and looking over at Mark. "Let's go".

Mark opened the door of the loft to find an exasperated but observant Collins waiting for him, with two large brown paper bags.

"You're dressed!", Collin's remarked.

"I've heard that one before", Mark scoffed, ushering Collin's inside, and returning to the couch where Roger had sprawled out – now eyeing Collin's cautiously. Collin's placed the bags on the table and opened them slowly, using suspense to his advantage before removing the contents. Collin's picked up a bottle of Stoli with a wide grin, and used his other hand to display it, as would Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune, with the prize someone had one. Roger grinned from the couch, and Mark grinned when he saw Roger's expression, a true grin, even if it was because of alcohol. Placing the bottle of Stoli back on the table, Collin's emptied the other paper bag, which had been filled with multiple powdered sugar donuts.

"I figured you could use these", Collins remarked, laughing. "There's nothing like New York food and drink. So how was the gig?"

Mark reached the donut, handing it to Roger, before reaching for a paper cup and the bottle of Stoli, unsure of how Roger would answer Collin's question.

Roger took a bite of the donut and looked at Collin's nodding. "It was ok…we did our regular set, but then the audience wanted an encore. There were a bunch of screaming fan girls as always.". Collins nodded, with a wide grin "As always", as the filmmaker protectively put one arm around the guitarist, taking the hand that wasn't covered in powdered sugar from the donut, and laced his finger's through the Roger's. Roger smiled at Mark's gestures, truly appreciating them, but his eyes were still clouded with thoughts of Mark's newfound knowledge, and how in turn, it would be better if the rest of them knew at some point.

"How'd you get a cell phone?", Mark asked Collins, honestly curious.

"MIT", Collin's grinned back. "They still love me there".

Roger grinned again, moving closer to Mark, resting his head against Mark's chest.

"I should go…", Collin's smiled, taking the continued affection as a clue to leave. "Maureen's having another performance at the Life Café tonight. Shall I save two seats?".

Mark and Roger both looked at each other, before nodding at Collin's offer.

"Great!", Collin's remarked. "Show's at 7, dinner's at 8. You know where." Collin's then got up from the chair and headed out the door, softly closing it behind him.

The guitarist turned to the filmmaker with a wicked grin. "You've eaten some of my powdered donut, and you have sugar all over your face!". Mark blushed, and continued blushing as the guitarist placed a soft yet desire filled kiss on Mark's lips. "How many hours before we have to head to Maureen's show?", Roger asked, grinning, looking at Mark, extending his hand to Mark's, his eyes gesturing towards the bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Mark accepted Roger's extended hand, smiling, and looking at the clock. "We have 7 and a half hours before we have to battle the rush hour crowds and the subways", his smile turning into a grin, as he turned to Roger and caught the sparkle in Roger's eyes. This wasn't the first time they'd been intimate, but their being apart for a night, had brought a new meaning to intimacy. Their time apart had shown how hard it was to be apart from one another and this reunion, even after only a night of being apart, was nothing to be rushed. The filmmaker had been laying on the couch, looking up at the guitarist, his hand wrapped in the guitarist's extended one, when he had a better idea. With a swift pull, Mark yanked Roger towards him, pulling Roger on top of him on the couch. The guitarist grinned at the filmmaker's sudden action, his eyes sparkling, and his grin full of wicked intent.

Without a second thought, Roger placed a deep crushing on Mark's lips, hastily working on removing the powdered sugar from Mark's face. Mark squirmed and blushed under Roger's kiss, and giggled as Roger lapped at his face to remove the powdered sugar.

"Mmmm….now that you're clean from breakfast, I can begin to taste the rest of you", Roger whispered, his eyes sharing the expression of the wicked grin.

Mark blushed even more, his eyes closed, reeling in Roger's words and actions. Roger placed another crushing kiss on Mark's kiss, and Roger's last spoken words were enough to turn Mark on in a quick instant. Battling each other's lips with fevered intense kisses, moans replaced any attempts of words being spoken. While Roger had usually taken the more dominant role in the relationship, Mark recently had begun to match if not surpass him, and Roger was eager to see how this would play out during their moments of intimacy. Throughout Roger's life, he was always the dominating one, with his personality, decisions, and actions, but he trusted Mark. It was that trust that would allow him to fully let go and experience feelings that he'd kept locked up in a mental box for the longest time. Mark thrust his tongue into Roger's mouth, getting a firm grip on Roger's hair, pulling him closer, his grip and kisses becoming more insistent. Roger moaned into Mark's mouth as the filmmaker was guiding the guitarist into complete submission. Mark worked his tongue faster, and significantly tightened his grip on Roger's hair. Roger let out a deep moan, and opened his eyes to look at Mark. Mark's pale skin was a flushed crimson, and he wore the same wicked grin that Roger held prior. Without warning, and with one motion, Mark flipped both him and Roger, so now Roger was the one pinned against the couch, and was fully at Mark's disposal.

"Such strength!", Roger admired. Mark grinned, and took hold of Roger's shirt, working it up over his head and threw it to the floor. With the shirt out of the way, Mark was able to please Roger even more. Mark was usually one to take things slow and light, but today, Roger would be his, and would have marks to bear. His tongue fluttered momentarily at Roger's neck before biting firmly. The guitarist's eyes briefly flew open and a quick gasp escaped his lips. The filmmaker smirked and took the reaction as a definite sign to continue, though no such opposing plans had been made. The actions were repeated down to Roger's collarbone. Quickly, Mark's gaze flew to Roger's chest, one of the things Mark loved most about Roger, his chest muscles and their definition. Mark raked his nails down Roger's chest, watching Roger squirm at the sensations. Mark knew what would come next, but he wasn't sure exactly how to go about it. What he was sure of, was that he wanted this experience to be as drawn out for Roger as possible. Placing one hand on Roger's hip, with his fingers kneading, the other hand skillfully opened Roger's belt buckle and slid down the zipper. Flaring the top of his pants open, it only took Mark a few swift tugs to shuck Roger's jeans from his body. Noticing the obvious tent in Roger's boxers, Mark figured this would be as good a time as any to move things into the bedroom. Extending his hand to Roger, they both moved towards the bedroom, which because of the stormy weather outside was dark.

Mark let Roger get comfortable on the bed, before lying beside him and pulling him into a deep kiss. Just to tempt Roger a little further, Mark pressed into Roger for a few seconds, before pulling back, fully aware of how aroused Roger was. Loving the feeling of being in control, the filmmaker moved in front of the guitarist, laying atop him once again, and slowly rocking upwards. Roger's head fell backwards as he kept pushing up against Mark, his brow furrowed every time he baited Roger by pulling away ever so slightly. Seeing Roger's flustered reaction, Mark decided to give in, and bucked against Roger hard.

"Fuck….Mark!", Roger whined.

"Soon", Mark responded, grinning.

Mark pounded Roger's lips with firm deep kisses, as he stroked Roger's cock through his boxers. Roger let out a high pitched whimper, uncharacteristic of the guitarist who usually exhibited a rigid personality, not to be swayed, but submission changes people's actions, Mark mused. All the reactions from Roger aroused Mark significantly more than his mind realized. Without thinking twice, Mark practically tore off Roger's boxers, and used Roger's cock as a way to get Roger closer to him, with a firm tug. Roger's eyes only flickered closed for a minute before feeling the head of Mark's penis, slick with lube and additional lube from the condom, pressing against his anus. With one thrust, Mark slid all the way inside Roger. Many of their sex sessions had sex that was along the rough side, but Roger had never been on the receiving end of rough sex, though Mark secretly knew he desired to be. Roger was quick to adjust to the rough entering, and was more than ready continue. Slowly building up speed and pressure, the filmmaker began to pound into the guitarist, the bed, beginning to shake. Mark was surprised at how quiet Roger was being, but he realized it was the submission. Roger began to grunt quietly as Mark pounded away, but the grunting soon stopped. Mark looked at Roger, curiously.

"It's ok….you can show me….", Mark grinned wickedly, realizing that all Roger really wanted was permission.

As soon was Mark resumed pounding into Roger, Roger's vocals resumed the vocal height that they'd always been, and Mark was pleased that Roger was truly enjoying himself, and enjoying Mark. A few more minutes of going full force was all that Mark could take, before emptying himself into Roger, as Roger began to spasm around him.

Slowly, they both relaxed, and Roger took his usually place laying beside Mark, wrapping his arms around the filmmaker's torso, and placing soft kisses along his neck.

"How did you know?", Roger asked, still panting a bit.

"The more we share together, the easier it is for me to get into that mental box of yours", Mark smiled, turning to look deep into Roger's eyes.

"In time, I want you to discover everything I've put in that box. I trust you. I want you.", Roger mused.

"Later…Rog…..", Mark giggled. "You'll have plenty of time to swoon as I'm dancing on tables tonight".

"You've always had the cutest body", Roger remarked, smiling.

With that remark, Roger placed a soft kiss on Mark's lips, reaching out to hug him closer, lovingly.

"Let's rest….we'll need to be rejuvenated for Maureen's performance, and for later tonight.", Mark quipped.

"Mmmm….", Roger agreed, snuggling into Mark, stroking up and down his sides, before falling asleep to the rhythm of Mark's heart and the sounds of his breathing.


	5. Chapter 5

Roger rolled over and looked at the clock, groggily coming to the realization that it was 6:30 PM. He was amazed that 5 and a half hours of sleep could feel so refreshing, but sleeping next to Mark, made any amount of rest worthwhile. Roger gently shook Mark and muttered "6:30 PM". Both made their way around the bedroom, Mark thinking about what to wear tonight. There was always something eccentric about his appearance and his actions whenever he was at the Life Café. His debut of dancing on tables had started it all, and no one was about to let him forget it. It had become almost a ritual, his dancing on tables, and his wild side was able to come through a bit, versus always appearing as the quiet Jewish boy everyone thought he was. Mark smirked as he thought of what outfit, or pants, more specifically, would bring him the most attention tonight. The only attention that mattered was Roger's. There could 50 people at the Life Café, and Mark's only concern was that Roger was there. Roger had become the only person to truly matter in Mark's life, as their relationship had progressed to roommates, and then lovers. A pair of red plaid pants stood out to him, maybe because it was the color and pattern of his boxers, and the pants might give Roger a hint of what was underneath, not to mention that these were Roger's pants he was eyeing. Who was he kidding, Mark thought to himself, laughing softly, Roger was always thinking of what was underneath and, would only be focusing on his pants tonight. Mark as a whole, meant the world to Roger, but when Mark was dancing, all that mattered were Mark's pants, and his ass in those pants. Mark grinned, and tugged on lightweight black sweater. He was always passionate about what he did, and things that he was passionate about, made him sweaty. Giggling like a little kid, it suddenly didn't matter how sweaty he got during his dancing tonight, he'd become more sweaty later, full well knowing that Roger wasn't going to let him get away scott-free from his dominating performance earlier. Roger turned towards Mark, now dressed in faded and ripped jeans, a black band t-shirt, and his leather jacket.

"….My pants!", Roger mused, grinning. "Your ass in my pants",

"Yep", Mark responded, heading towards the door of the loft, with Roger a few steps behind him.

Both men entered Maureen's performance space, holding hands as usual, hoping to disguise their tardiness. Quickly finding Collins and Angel, they were able to settle into the crowd and enjoy the show. Though Maureen's performances were always something to see, Roger had one everlasting question in the back of his mind that he'd yet to ask Mark, always fearing the question would come out differently as it had been intended. Roger chose a quick minute between songs to talk to Mark, he figured the quicker he asked the question, the less the reaction would sting if the question wasn't well received.

"Mark?", Roger asked, looking at Mark and turning to face him.

"Mmm?", Mark murmured, concentrating on Roger, having shifted his gaze away from Maureen's cow clad pants.

"I never got the guts to ask, but I was always curious. Why were you with Maureen?". Roger asked, gulping a bit.

"I'm not really sure", Mark said, squeezing Roger's hand, "Maybe it was her loud vivacious personality…or wardrobe…. but I'm much happier with you. You understand me, and you're loyal. With Maureen it was always a give and take guessing game".

Roger grinned and relaxed, squeezing Mark's hand in return, now even more confident with their relationship.

Once all were seated in the Life Café, and wine and beer had been brought to all that asked, Roger cleared his through and looked uneasily at Mark.

"I have something that's needed to be said for a while now", Roger spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. The group stared at him, concerned and confused. Roger was always confident in what he wanted to say, and his voice always was clear and audible.

"While I was away….during the overnight gig in New Jersey. I re-lapsed. I started using again.", Roger continued, his voice still no louder than a whisper. Maureen choked a bit on her beer, and stared at Roger open-mouthed, attempting to speak, but no words came out.

"I missed Mark so much, I couldn't help it. I remember how I was 3 months ago, and the pain I caused you all, especially Mark. The drug turned me into a different person, and it was a person that I couldn't control. I don't want to become that person again. Mark has become a stronger person for dealing with me through this, but I can't hurt him anymore. I can't hurt myself anymore, and I certainly can't hurt you guys' anymore.", Roger finished. The group's silence, with the exception of Maureen's open-mouthed obscure expression could be taken as understanding. No one dared to press the issue any further.

Collins cleared his throat and looked directly at Roger, who's face had returned to it's normal shade from the flushed tone it had taken on a few minutes prior, having been unsure of everyone's reaction. "I can make a call if you'd—".

"Thanks, that'd be great", Roger finished quickly, smiling slightly.

This time it was Mark who cleared his throat, and looked down at the group from his perch a top the tables pushed together. Roger hadn't even noticed Mark had moved, having been too concerned with the news he'd told. Mark struck the most adorable and obscure pose to the music being played and started to dance. Roger's smile broke into a grin, as he'd finally be getting to see Mark's ass in action, in his pants. Everyone clapped at Mark's artistic display, which had purposefully been staged right in front of Roger's seat. Pleased with his interpretive display, Mark jumped down from the table and planted a deep and feverous kiss on Roger's lips. The guitarist blushed, a bit surprised, but made no move to stop the arousing gesture.

Collins cleared his throat again, and tried not to focus on Mark and Roger's engrossment. "It's late, and we've all got stuff to do tomorrow".

Mark stopped this kiss, when he heard Collin's speak. "Is this because of….our display?", Mark asked, wearing a slight smirk.

"No.", Collin's finished hurriedly, winking at Mark.

Once they were inside the loft, Roger let his hand drop from around Mark's waist to cup his ass and give it a light squeeze.

"You look hot in those pants", he remarked, eyes gleaming.

Mark blushed. "Yeah…well…I figured it was ok if I….".

Roger laughed. "It's fine baby"

Mark smiled, and shook his ass right in front of Roger, scooting towards the bedroom, still doing the same movements. As soon as Mark was within a decent range of the bed, Roger scooped him up and tossed him onto the bed, flopping himself down onto the bed and pinning Mark down so he couldn't escape. The filmmaker grinned and restrained himself from taking the lead once again. Figuring that a small lead wouldn't hurt, Mark grabbed Roger's shirt collar, pulling the guitarist down on top of him. Full well knowing that Mark's dance at the Life Café began both their foreplay, Roger knew he didn't have far to go before Mark was putty in his hands. Engaging Mark in a hard deep kiss, Roger rocked up against him hard, grinning as he felt the filmmaker shudder beneath him. The filmmaker's pants were already tented by the first rocking movement of the guitarist, and Roger knew it wouldn't take much more to put Mark over the edge. Almost tearing off Mark's pants, Roger quickly placed himself between Mark's thighs, entering two fingers roughly. Mark, needing no time to adjust, bucked against Roger for more. Not needing to be told twice, Roger entered a third and began scissoring the filmmaker out. There was a difference between forced sex and roughed sex. Roger would never consider crossing the line of the two, again, since he saw what instances of his heroin use did to their trust combined with their moments of intimacy. He never wanted to cause Mark the physical and emotional pain that he had, when he wasn't himself, having been taken over by the drug. During those moments, Roger wanted more of anything, and he wanted it right then and there. It didn't matter if it was heroin, or Mark's ass, and Roger hadn't cared who he'd hurt – but then again, it wasn't really Roger. Mark moaned in response to Roger's skilled fingers.

"Rog, fuck me!", Mark moaned weakly, overcome by the sensations Roger was creating.

Roger didn't need any other signs, he slipped on a condom, and looked at Mark, who had already assumed the position of all fours. Roger pressed the head of his penis to Mark's anus, and pushed in slowly. Mark instinctively bucked against Roger, which lead to Roger picking up speed with every thrust. There are often words or phrases only uttered in the throes of passion, which both Roger and Mark utilized quite skillfully. Mark became Roger's bitch, but the filmmaker honestly wouldn't have it any other way. Roger was skilled in many things, including his talents in bed. It was often assumed by a passerby that Mark was "whipped", because he was so devoted to Roger, and Mark wouldn't let that title be passed up in bed either. It took all the self-control the guitarist had not to send the filmmaker over the edge in a few short thrusts; instead, the process became almost agonizing due to how good it felt. Mark's back became home to scratch and bite Mark's and his brain became home to comments often including "bitch", with a string of expletives tacked on. When the pleasure became too much to bear, Roger's thrusting became faster and deeper, signaling his need for release. With one final thrust, they both finished at the same time, fighting the urge to collapse to the bed from how good it was. Finding renewed strength; they both got cleaned up and sat on the bed.

"Wow….", Mark grinned, still panting a bit. Roger couldn't help but grin himself; since pleasing Mark was one of the things he loved most. Roger leaned over to hug Mark in a full embrace. Mark rested his head on Roger's shoulder and took in the scent of his sweat, and then opened his eyes to take in the sight of his lover. Mark never thought he'd end up with someone as gorgeous and devoted as Roger, someone who truly cared for him. Roger smiled, as he saw Mark's crimson flushed skin, and weak smile. Roger was also in awe, proud to have Mark as his own.

Both were jolted out of their reverie by the ringing of the telephone. Roger picked up the phone and found a very eager Collins on the other end of the line.

"I found you a support group for recovering drug addicts that's held in the 3 story brick building off of Avenue B – it'll be good for you to talk and get things out. It's at 11 AM tomorrow morning", Collins said proudly.

"Ok…I'll be there …but I'm bringing Mark", Roger replied.

"That's fine man, but you need to kick this habit once and for all!", Collin's sighed.

"I know…and thanks", Roger answered, his voice, once again barely above a whisper.


	6. Chapter 6

Roger and Mark had passed out after Collins' phone call. Their slumber was interrupted by another phone call from none other than Collins.

"Speak!", Mark mumbled into the receiver, full well knowing who the caller was.

"It's 10:30 AM…I just figured you guys should get up…don't want to miss this….", Collins went on, a bit irritated, considering he was doing them a favor by waking them up.

"We're up", Mark muttered, just starting to shake Roger awake, unknown to Collins, before clicking off the phone.

Mark gently shook Roger, announcing that it was 10:30 AM and that they needed to get going. Roger glared at Mark at the reminder. He hadn't slept a wink last night, and while he knew that kicking his habit was for his own good, as well as Mark's, he wasn't sure if he could actually go through with it. Stumbling out of bed, Roger headed to the shower, intended to take a cold quick one, just to wake him up enough so he seemed like enough of a person to show up to the meeting. Having taken a shower the night before, Mark put on some fresh clothes and a pot of coffee. If there was another thing that would give Roger the motivation to keep going with this morning's responsibility, it was coffee. Sighing to himself, Mark walked around the kitchen, getting out mugs and toasting some bread for himself, knowing Roger was too nervous to eat. His hand rested idly on the counter, thinking about all he and Roger had endured when Roger had regressed and shot up in the past. The fights, the screaming, having to pin Roger down to the bed so he couldn't get his stash. The beatings, the pain in Roger's eyes and the fear in Mark's. The fear. Mark had never been scared of Roger until those moments. Roger had changed into a different person, someone unknown to anyone, the craze of the drug taking over. The beep of the coffee maker shook Mark's thoughts back to the present, he was just glad this would all be taken care of once and for all. Roger emerged from the bedroom, dressed in random jeans and a t-shirt, looking quite unhappy. Mark handed him a mug of coffee and motioned for them to sit on the couch so they could talk for a bit.

Mark slowly sipped his coffee and looked over at Roger. Roger just held the mug in his hands and stared at its contents, as if he wasn't sure what to do with it. An awkward silence passed between them both. Mark wished there to be conversation to fill the silence, but he knew better than to push Roger, especially now. Roger continued to stare into his mug as a lone tear trickled down his right cheek. The silence in the room was enough to hear a pin drop, and Mark looked up at Roger after hearing the tear splash into the mug. The filmmaker placed down his own mug and slipped an arm around the guitarist, pulling him close. The affection just lead Roger to cry harder, and Mark pulled Roger into a tight embrace, just letting him cry. Mark's eyes darted to the clock which read 10:50.

"We've gotta go…and I know you're scared", Mark spoke softly, only eliciting a nod from Roger in response.

They both rose and walked hand in hand to the 3 story brick building off of Avenue B. Roger squeezed Mark's hand tighter as they walked inside, and his gaze shifted to Mark's other hand in which he held his camera. Roger's brow furrowed quickly, but then relaxed as he heard Mark's words.

"Habit….and I know not to use it", Mark blushed, looking at the floor.

Walking up a flight of stairs, a directory greeted them and soon they found themselves outside the room where the meeting would be held. Both men entered quietly and were amused to see that a circle of chairs had been set up, just like the Life Support meetings. Mark and Roger looked at each other and wondered if the meetings would be run similarly too. Taking a seat next to Mark, Roger looked around. Almost all of the chairs were full. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, Roger thought. Out of the corner of his eye, Roger thought he saw someone familiar.

"Paul", Roger asked.

"Yeah – surprise!", Paul responded, grinning.

Paul was who ran the Life Support meetings, and since Paul was running this, Roger knew he could handle it. A few more people came in and sat down, all looking at the other people around the circle.

"Alright, let's begin", Paul said clearly. "I want everyone to say their name and why they're here."

Roger listened closely to everyone's answers, realizing he couldn't stretch the truth or make up his, he had to tell the truth. He needed help and he was finally ready to get it.

"I'm Roger, and I've recently begun to use heroin again, but I want to stop – for good", Roger said calmly.

"Very good", Paul answered. "We can help you get there. I see you brought Mark with you, it's nice to have support during a time like this".

Mark and Roger both looked at each other and smiled. This was going to be ok, and Roger knew it was going to be a success. Watching from the back of the room, Collins' smiled, pleased with the large step Roger had taken. It was he who had arranged for Paul to run this particular meeting. He figured that with Paul there, a familiar support person, it would be easier for Roger to admit his problem and take the first step. Hopefully Paul would be able to run the rest of the meetings, but it wasn't guaranteed. Collins' figured it didn't matter, Roger had done the first step by himself, Paul was just there to make sure it actually happened, and now Roger would take the road to recovery. With a gentle squeeze of Mark's hand, Roger was ready to face the long and difficult journey ahead, with his best friends and lover by his side.


End file.
